


Bright Colour, Blank Canvas

by Bambijo5023



Category: Everything Everything film, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Caring Kim Namjoon | Rap Monster, Caring Kim Seokjin | Jin, Caring Kim Taehyung | V, Clumsy Kim Namjoon | Rap Monster, Dancer Park Jimin, Dead Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Disclaimer: I do not own anything within this, First Kiss, First Love, First Meetings, First Time, Grumpy Min Yoongi | Suga, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Insecure Kim Namjoon | Rap Monster, Kim Namjoon | Rap Monster Is Whipped, Kim Seokjin | Jin Being a Mom, Kim Seokjin | Jin is So Done, Kim Taehyung | V & Park Jimin Are Best Friends, Kim Taehyung | V Is a Little Shit, M/M, Mentioned Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Mentioned Min Yoongi | Suga, Minor Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V, Park Jimin Is a Sweetheart, Park Jimin-centric, Sassy Kim Namjoon, Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 16:22:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11786919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bambijo5023/pseuds/Bambijo5023
Summary: Park Jimin hadn't left the house since he was a few months old. He didn't feel the need to complain about it. He's 17, he should be used to it by now.It didn't bother him too much. He had his loving mother, his caring nurse, his nurse's hilarious brother. The internet was a fine companion when he felt the urge to coo over cute cats that he could never hope to have. His online classes were pretty great too. And he had his support group. All in all, Jimin was fine with how his life was turning out.Until Kim Namjoon stumbled into his life with a crash, spilling colour and meaning onto the blank canvas that was Park Jimin's life.





	1. If This Is Found, Let Me Know (I'm Alive)

_**~~If you've found this book, it means I'm dead.~~ ** _   
  
_**Sorry, I didn't mean to cause any alarm. I just felt like making a play on the fact that I'm technically not living. I mean I'm not ghost or anything. I'm just stuck.** _   
  
_**My name is Park Jimin and I've never been outside.** _   
  
_**...** _   
_**......** _   
  
_**I guess it sounds a little bit strange when you first hear it, so I'll just say it again so you, whoever you are, can get used to it.** _   
  
_**My name is Park Jimin and I've never been outside.** _   
  
_**You're actually probably wondering what I really mean by that.** _   
  
_**And before you ask, no I am not a shut in or a recluse. I don't have agoraphobia, I'm not one of those people that stay inside all day just so they can play videogames or anything like that. I'm inside all the time because I'm sick.** _   
  
_**And not sick as in 'Oh I have a cold, achoo!' sick, sick as in 'You'll die if you leave the house.' sick.** _   
  
_**I'm really sorry if I seem a bit macabre, I'm not too used to interacting with other people so I don't really know what things are okay to say and stuff.** _   
  
_**I have SCID, otherwise known as Severe Combined Immunodeficiency, Bubble Baby Syndrome etc. It basically means I can't leave the house if I want to live. I could give you the lengthy spiel about why I can't go out, but you probably don't really care. I just felt the need to explain why I'm a little bit blunt about it. I'm not mad about it or anything, it's not something I can really control so I've just gotten used to it.** _   
  
_**So, sorry about my rambling by the way, if you find this book, please return it to the address below. Although it'll probably get incinerated by my mother before I can even touch it. She'll make sure I get a new one to replace it. Just the perks of being a bubble baby I guess.** _   
  
_**And while I'm aware that I will probably never lose this, mostly because I'll be here for the rest of my life, I just wanted to write this because... Then it actually makes me feel like someone will realise I'm here. That I'm alive. Even if I'm not really living.** _   
  
_**  
Thanks (If this ever gets a chance to be found and returned, which it probably won't),** _   
__**  
Park Jimin**


	2. Welcome To My Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even though I'm so grateful for everything my mother has given me, for everything she has given up for me... I can't help but want more. More than this room with it's white walls, more than this house with it's vacuum sealed windows and more than what my illness can allow me to have. I know I can't have anything I really want. But maybe one day I can get something, someone to show me what it feels like to be on the outside.

_The sky was blue. Such a bright blue that it stained the water around me with the vibrancy of it's hue. The sun blazed from it's spot in the stretch of blue that dominated my vision, my eyes narrowed as they tried to adjust to the reflecting shimmers of sunshine that sparkled on the surface of the water. It felt like I was a part of a painting from that one painter, the one that cut his ear off in a fit of madness. I couldn't really bring myself to remember his name, not while I'm feeling this peaceful. It almost felt like I was laying back in the sky's very essence, the cool rippling waves only adding to the illusion that I was drifting through the vast expanse of it all. So far away from my reality. My eyes fell to a close as a pleased sigh slipped from my lips, the ocean breeze filling my senses and making my heart swell with the sheer serenity that consumed me as heavily as the water did. I couldn't help but let myself bask in it, let my limbs grow heavy as the weight of them dragged me down, down, down into the swell. As I sank deeper and deeper, I became aware of a strange, rhythmic humming that steadily grew louder and louder in the back of my mind. My eyes clenched tightly in an attempt to block it out, the water around me suddenly growing colder and colder the longer the noise echoed through my thoughts. Soon, slowly but surely, the water grew so cold that a gasp left my lips and erupted from my mouth in a pillar of thick bubbles that darted up to the surface, exploding rapidly as they hit the violently churning surface. I couldn't help but slowly open my eyes, tensing as I prepared for the sting of the saltwater-_  
  
  
Only to wake up to my alarm clock blaring violently and incessantly as I groggily opened my eyes with a faint scowl on my face. Sitting up and pushing my blankets back, I reached out to slam my hand on the snooze button and sighed as the ringing cut off. Bringing my hands to my face, I rubbed at my eyes and brushed my hair back from my face with a distracted mumble. Flopping back onto my mattress, I gazed up at the ceiling. The ceiling was white. Such a bright shade of white that it hurt my eyes to stare at it for too long. My eyes narrowed as I continued to gaze up at it, unable to keep them open fully against the glare of the sun reflecting off of the pure white of the ceiling. Eventually, I tore my gaze away from the mind numbing starkness of the colour and bite back a sigh as my eyes met the bluntly identical white walls of my room. My mother seemed to have had a theme planned throughout her mind when she redecorated the house after the accident. When she threw away everything she had and sold the things that were really important to her to buy everything I needed to survive. At that thought, my heart squeezed and the back of my throat welled up with the guilt worming it's way up from my gut. I've been finding myself feeling more guilty lately, whether it was something to do with my mother, handing in my assignments late or feeling frustrated with my illness.   
  
  
SCID. Otherwise known as Severe Combined Immunodeficiency. It's a rare genetic disorder characterised by a disturbed development within the T and B cells of an individual's immune system. At least that's the really complicated way of explaining it that I heard my mother constantly spout out whenever I asked what it meant as a kid. And I have it. In short, I've got a very weak immune system. Normal people have special cells called Lymphocytes in their blood. Most are really good at fighting and beating any sort of virus that enters their host's body. But I have SCID. Basically meaning that I have next to none. And the few I do have aren't good at fighting off viruses or infections of any kind. My mother, who is a doctor, realised I had SCID a few months after my father and brother died. I kept getting really bad chesty coughs, ear aches and there were even times that I would stop breathing from lung infections. No one knew what was wrong with me. It was my mother that managed to work it out. She immediately put her life on hold to save mine. Even sold the house she bought with my father, the one my brother grew up in, to be able to buy the best place that could support me and my illness. Over the years we've lived here, she's used her influence as a doctor to get state of the art technology needed to keep me alive. An airlock room that surrounds front door and makes sure nothing can leak in when the door's open. HEPA Filters, vacuum seal windows, a thousand dollar water system etc. You name it, we've got it. We've even got a radiator that sterilises my clothes to make sure I can't catch anything. My clothes mostly consist of white shirts and plain jeans. It's basically my standard uniform. Once I counted all of my shirts and realised that I had a hundred of them. Honestly, I didn't really think I needed that many, but eomma just likes to be prepared. I can't really blame her. White shirts are really easy to stain after all. I've learnt that the hard way over the years.   
  
  
After finally managing to get myself out of bed, I wandered over to the en suite bathroom attached to my room with a light yawn. Holding back a shiver as my bare feet hit the cool tiles, I shuffled to the sink, turned the tap on and watched tiredly as the water swirled in the white porcelain basin. Switching the tap off when I felt satisfied with the amount of water, I reached out and sank my hands into the chilled water before cupping my hands and bringing them to my face. Splashing the water against my flesh, I rubbed my fingertips against the skin of my cheeks as the water spilled over my small fingers back into the small puddle in the basin. As I pulled my hands away, I lifted my gaze to the mirror and stared at the boy gazing back at me. Thick dark hair fell into his equally dark eyes, his slightly chubby cheeks flushed and dripping with droplets of water slipping down his skin. One of his hands raised to brush back the inky black strands clinging to his damp face, his fingers small and dainty as they pressed against the flesh of his face in a slow, pondering manner. Lowering my eyes from the ones reflected back at me, I reached out to grab the white towel next to the sink and rubbed it against my cheeks to dry them. As I walked from the bathroom, I tossed the towel into the beige and white hamper that was next to my door and grinned as it fell into it after rebounding off of the wall. "And the crowd goes wild, ahhhhhh!" I jumped at the sudden exclamation, whirling around with a squeak before scowling playfully as I spotted my mother standing beside my bed with a warm smile on her face. The same smile that I have. My mother's name is Park Chae-Yeon. She is an incredibly successful doctor in the most respected hospital within our area. She was so good that she was the only person to realise that I have SCID. She's one of the very few people I have ever come into close contact with and is one of the biggest, most important things in my life as I know it. "Oh eomma, it's just you." I sighed out in exaggerated relief, biting my lip to hold back a snicker at the mock surprise on her face. "Just me? Oh Jimin, how could you hurt me so!" She exclaimed in an extremely dramatic manner, pretending to swoon as she fell back onto my freshly made bed with a thump. "Mhmm." I mused in return, glancing at the straightened out blankets with a raised brow. "Cleaning up my messes again huh?" I couldn't help but tease, my cheeks straining with the large grin curling my lips at the sheepish look that overtook her face. "Well, I just thought that I'd sort it out for you because of today." She replied, pushing up from the bed to gaze up at me with a loving yet sorrowful smile. I felt my smile falter slightly as I thought of today, my _birthday_. Another year come and gone, with me still stuck on the inside. Almost immediately noticing my smile dimming, she stood up from the bed and pulled me into a tight hug. I wrapped my arms around her in response, squeezing her sides tenderly.   
  
  
"My baby boy, turning eighteen. I love you so much Jimin. I'm so..." She let out a shuddering breath against my shoulder, her hands gripping me as if she was afraid I would disappear right in front of her. I guess she was. I took a deep breath through my nose and made my lips stretch back into a fond smile as I pulled back from her. "Eomma, it's fine. At least I'm still here right? Still here with you." She gazed back at me, her dark eyes heavy lidded and glistening as she slowly smiled back at me in return. Soon we were both giggling and grinning identical grins at one another as she reached up to pinch my cheeks lovingly.  
  
  
My mother often said that I had looked a lot like her when I was younger, giving her ego a bit of a boost as she cooed and said how 'handsome' I was becoming. I could definitely see the resemblance. We even made a little game out of it when I was a kid, taking photos of our faces and comparing them to list down the things that we could find we had in common. I have her nose and plump cheeks, my eyes close like hers do when she smiles. I even have the same dimples as her. And annoyingly, I'm almost as short as she is. But there were things that I had noticed were different too. Like how my eyes are a different shape and colour, how my lips are thicker and more plump than hers. My hair was different from hers too. She had deep brown wavy locks that fell to caress her face while I had pitch black strands of thick hair that sometimes defied the laws of gravity. When I first asked about it at the age of eight, she burst into tears. She'd cried for hours, only stopping when she had passed out from emotional exhaustion. It had scared the crap out of me and even made me avoid talking to her in fear of setting her off again.  
  
  
It was only when I turned 10 that she finally showed me why those things about me were different. Because I had gotten them from my father.  
  
  
"Is Jin taking the day off today?" I asked after we made out way downstairs into the kitchen and sat myself down on the stool next to the island bench, watching as she shuffled to the coffee maker. "Yeah, he said that he wanted us to relax and spend as much time together as we can. Mostly because of how much work I'm going to have to sort through when I get back to the hospital." She replied, turning to give me a smile over her shoulder. I chewed my lip lightly, feeling a twinge of guilt as I noticed how tired her eyes were, how her smile was faltering at the edges. "You don't have to be here. Especially because of how busy you are at work." I murmured, twiddling my thumbs as I watched her shoulders tense up slightly and clutch onto the coffee pot. "Jimin." She stated firmly, turning around to face me with a stern look on her face. "I am not going to leave you alone. Not today of all days. I have never left you alone on your birthday and I don't plan to start doing that now, not because I have a little work building up. Ok?" Looking down at my fidgeting hands, I nodded and bit back a smile when she gave me a playful flick on the forehead. "Now stop moping birthday boy, after we do your basic check ups we're going to have some fun!" Rolling my eyes at her exclamation and mock groaning as she cheerfully tugged on my arm, I pouted up at her when she managed to pull me from the stool. "But eomma, you say that every year!" I whined and purposely walked slowly, inwardly grinning at the annoyed scowl my mother sent my way. "Park Jimin, quit whining. You know it doesn't take that long." She scolded after pulling me through the doorway to the _**viewing room**_.  
  
  
The viewing room was a large room we had in the back of our house that took up a lot of the bottom story. It was basically an observatory made completely of extra strong glass that couldn't be broken without extreme force. It extended out into the large garden that my mother had done up for me as a birthday gift when I was about 9 or 10. As a kid, I would always fall asleep in the viewing room. Eomma said that I would sneak out of my room with a blanket and a teddy, mentioning that it would scare the crap out of her when she couldn't find me in my room the next morning. She also told me about how she always found me with my hand pressed up against the glass.  
  
  
I never snuck out to sleep in the viewing room again after seeing tears in her eyes.  
  
  
Pushing me to sit down in the plush seat in front of her, I turned to stare at the plants just outside of the glass. My mother never called anyone to come clear up the plants, talking about how the fumes of the machines could seep into the house some way or another. So after about five years, they slowly grew and grew and grew until they grew so much that the garden could be considered a jungle. Sometimes when eomma left the house, I would just sit in front of the glass for hours. I used to think that if I stared at the glass long enough, it would fall away. That I'd be able to step out and finally find out what grass felt like. To be able to run my fingers over the glossy leaves that littered the yard, pick them up and throw them into the air. Just like in the movies. So I stared. And stared. And stared. But it still never worked. No matter how hard I tried. "Jimin?" My mother's voice tore me from my thoughts, jarring me enough that I squeaked lightly in surprise. When my eyes met hers, I scowled at the gleeful look in her eyes and the mirth-filled smile on her face. "So cute." She cooed and snickered at the grumpy pout I gave her in return. As I sat still and let my mother poke and prod at me, opening my mouth obediently when she asked and turning my head to let her check my ears, I gazed at the distant, and slightly concerned look on her face. This was the side of her that most of her patients see. As a child I often wondered if that face was as comforting to her patients as it was to me. I leant forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek, grinning lightly as a smile broke over her face and immediately transformed her back into my mother. "Jimin, I need to focus ok?" She stated, as she pressed the stethoscope against my chest. I nodded, cheekily poking my tongue out at her in response. When my mother was satisfied with the results she was seeing, she relaxed, let that familiar smile curve her lips and looked back at me with bright eyes. "See, wasn't too bad was it?" She asked softly, reaching out to pat my cheek and squeeze it in her fingers gently. I let myself smile in return, my eyes closing as I laughed. "No. Not at all."  
  
  
We spent the next few hours watching cheesy american rom-com movies from the 90's. It's one of my favourite things to do on my birthday. Watching these movies and laughing with my mother almost made me feel like I didn't have an illness holding me back. That I was a normal kid, dealing with normal kid things. After finishing off When Harry Met Sally, my mother stood up from the couch and beckoned me to follow her with a wide smile on her face. I immediately stood and followed after her, bouncing on the balls of my feet as I guessed what was coming. "Is it time for cake eomma?" I questioned, a grin spreading over my face at the thought of the delicious cake my mother made for me each year. Vanilla cake with an almost absurd, heaping amount of vanilla frosting coating it. My mother and I, we both are more of a frosting kind of people than cake people. It was a wonder that I didn't get any cavities from eating it over the years. She would always let me decorate it before we started eating, leaving a spare bag of white icing in the fridge for me after she baked it and did the basic frosting. Practically skipping to the fridge, I couldn't help but hum happily as I pulled it open and reached in to grab the bag of thick icing. "What are you going to decorate the cake with this time Jimin?" She asked with a curious gleam in her eyes, passing me a pair of scissors so I could snip the tip of the bag carefully. "Hmm... I was thinking of doing some flowers?" I answered absentmindedly as I started to work, my hands steady from years of practice. Soon there were eighteen small daisies blossoming across the thick icing coating the cake. This was a little tradition/system I had started to develop when I was about 13. Every year I would add another little decoration to symbolise another year coming and going. It was one of the very few changes that ever happened around here so I cherished it every chance I could.   
  
  
My mother glanced over and let out a delighted gasp, her eyes wide as she gazed down at the detailed flowers on the cake. "Jimin, they are so beautiful!" She exclaimed as she hung her arm over my shoulders and gave me a tight squeeze. I couldn't help but beam in pride at her praise, my cheeks aching from how wide my smile stretched across my face. "Thanks eomma. I'm happy you like it." Once I had finished up the last few touch ups and fixed any mistakes I could see, my mother stuck a single candle within the centre of the cake. Pulling out a lighter from the drawer, she pressed down on the flint and we both watched as a small flame blossomed from the opening in the plastic. I stared at the dancing flame, struggling not to feel transfixed by it. Even as eomma reached out to light the candle, I couldn't bring myself to look away from it. "Jimin, are you okay?" Bringing my gaze from the candle, I looked into my mother's eyes and was left struggling for an answer. How could I tell her? That blowing this candle would make the fact that I'm going to be stuck here for the rest of my life even more real. That I would most likely die in this house without ever having a least one day outside.  
  
  
Even though I'm so grateful for everything my mother has given me, for everything she has given up for me... I can't help but want more. More than this room with it's white walls, more than this house with it's vacuum sealed windows and more than what my illness can allow me to have. I know I can't have anything I really want. But maybe one day I can get something, someone to show me what it feels like to be on the outside.  
  
  
Looking away from her, from the questioning look in her eyes, I blew out the candle and smiled stiffly at the smoke rising from the extinguished flame.  
  
  
_**"Yes eomma. I'm ok."**_  
  
  
Just resigning myself to the fact that I'll die here and no one else will know I existed. That I was alive and not really living.  
  
  


* * *

_**I really, really hope you guys like the first proper chapter of this fic~ I tried my best to make it as good as possible and I really hope it is worth the wait ^_^ Please let me know what you think in the comments, I'd absolutely love to hear what you have to say :D** _   
  



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